My apologies for getting lost in my book writing the last week or two. I will be back tomorrow with a letter, and later tonight with the monthly “What are you reading?” post. (Hint: it is heavy on audio books.)
Samwise is doing well, and seems to be all the way back to normal. Emily is probably the only one of us who is happy about the suffocating heat and humidity. It means she gets to swim more often—and we join her.
Thank goodness for air conditioning, because it makes the writing room a pleasant sanctuary.
I’ve always said that summer is the perfect writing season for me because we don’t enjoy the heat. The latest sultry and sticky days have been perfect for allowing me to sink into my ‘book work.’
There is a predictable cadence to these days.
I walk, visit farm stands, read, eat fresh veggies and greens, plenty of fruit, drink water and tea, and write. It’s a monkish life, but a fulfilling one. The more crowded the valley becomes, the more sequestered in peace and solitude we are.
It’s not unlike Ursula Le Guin’s prime writing days (seen below), although I spend more time in correspondence with friends and my ‘official’ writing takes place after our morning walk.
The hottest summer days are not made for my health. I tend to get slow and, at times, dizzy, if I expend too much energy. It’s a byproduct of everything I’ve gone through. Give me thirty below zero on the thermometer and I’m fine. Yet I struggle when it’s humid and above 80 degrees. That’s what makes summer my perfect writing season.
I’ve been deep at work in writing a chapter about our time at the Grand Canyon. The above video brought me back to our sunrise visit with the ravens in late January when it was only 15 degrees.
I am always encouraged by how social and curious ravens are. They gather wherever we stop for views and chatter away. You’ll notice they are not in the video until we cease walking to embrace the rising sun. Then they swirl around us and have much to say.
Don’t you love Samwise’s ‘edge of the cliff’ interaction with them?
Ravens are an aspect of the West that we miss when we are home in the White Mountains. They represent the many Wilds we encounter on our travels that we do not get to be around in New Hampshire.
Of course, when it comes to the Grand Canyon, there are other Wilds, too. Twice we’ve been within feet of mountain lions, and each visit means walking among the elk. Once, under a full January moon, we had the South Rim to ourselves, until we sauntered through a dozen elk who parted for us like the Red Sea. They did not scatter, however. Instead, they observed and respected us as much as we did in return.
